


Shout If You Know

by equiuszahhax



Series: amor in tribus est [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Spanking, mentioned F!Adaar/Sera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equiuszahhax/pseuds/equiuszahhax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shout If You Know

            “I’m not sure which is worse, the mockery or the accuracy,” Dorian laughs, allowing Sera to playfully swat his shoulder.

            “But how is it though, really? Being with a qunari?” Sera falls into step behind Dorian, who shoots a glance at Iron Bull walking a few yards ahead. There’s a waterfall nearby, effectively drowning out anything below a shout, but nevertheless Dorian lowers his voice as he speaks.

            “It’s—well, it’s something. I suspect it’s rather different for your Inquisitor. She was brought up Tal-Vashoth, and Bull…” Dorian grimaces at the memory of their most recent encounter with the Qun.

            Sera pulls a face. “No, stupid!” Dorian hurriedly shushes her. “I mean,” she says, in a slightly quieter voice. “What’s the sex like? He’s all big and stuff, but is he really?” With a laugh, a bit of tension leaves Dorian’s shoulder; sex is something he can talk about, at least more than he can talk about whatever _relationship_ he has with the Iron Bull and his lieutenant.

            “Bigger,” he mock-whispers, and Sera makes a face. “The Bull doesn’t make promises he can’t keep.”

            “Ick! Well, I s’pose it’s only ick cause it’s, y’know, him.” A pause, the archer seemingly lost in thought. “Woof. Can’t wait to see what the Inquisitor is packing under those magey robe things.” A dreamy look crosses her face and Dorian shoots her a wry smile.

            “Snap out of it, you useless lesbian.” Sera giggles at that and runs to catch up with the Inquisitor, yelling something about lady-bits as she goes. They didn’t see eye to eye at first, but Sera is something special, and a good friend to boot, even if she does make gagging noises whenever Dorian mentions his lovers. Picking up the pace, he catches up with the Iron Bull, who looks at him with a mischievous glint in his eye.

            “So, how is everyone’s favorite elven archer?” he smirks, and Dorian has a sinking suspicion that the Bull has been eavesdropping. Damn qunari senses, so much better than those of a human. He laughs, trying to cover his nerves.

            “How she remains so smitten with our dear Inquisitor I will never know. But,” he pauses a moment. “She seems happy. They both do.” A more genuine smile forms on Iron Bull’s face, and Dorian relaxes; if the Bull had heard anything, he’s not thinking about it any longer. Anyways, there’s nothing wrong with a little harmless bragging, he thinks to himself.

            “Good. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s the Boss. Anyways, they’re perfect for each other. Did you see what they did to Solas the other day? He’ll be picking cat hair off his robes for weeks.” The Iron Bull snickers, and looks ahead to the pair, who are now waiting for them to catch up. He leans over and speaks into Dorian’s ear, low and rumbling.

            “My quarters after dinner. Don’t be late.” He squeezes Dorian’s ass once, and then he’s yelling “Coming, Boss!” and jogging to meet them, leaving Dorian flushed and sputtering.

            He’s tense all day after that; most of the trio’s time together is spent in either Dorian or Krem’s quarters, simply out of convenience, and an invitation to the Iron Bull’s room means one of two things: a serious relationship talk or a particularly intense night of mind-blowing sex. Dorian’s body isn’t sure which is worse. After a particularly boring dinner with the inner circle (to which the Iron Bull is conspicuously absent), he prepares to meet his lover, insides coiling in a knot of anxiety.

            When he arrives at the Bull’s door, he doesn’t bother to knock; he’s well aware that his room is nearly always open. When he enters, Iron Bull’s back is facing the door, and Dorian swallows nervously.

            “Bull?” he says, and coughs a little, trying to dispel the nerves from his voice. The larger man turns, and he’s smiling, a gentle, genuine smile, eyes softening as he looks at him.

            “Right on time. What a good boy, kadan.” A rush of breath escapes Dorian; the Bull isn’t mad at him, and it’s a relief, no matter how irrational the thought was in the first place. He allows a small smile to creep onto his face, ducking his head almost shyly.

            “Only for you, amatus.” The Iron Bull comes closer and presses a kiss to the top of Dorian’s head; he feels safe and content, a fuzzy feeling coming over his body as if he’s floating. The qunari pulls something out from a drawer next to the bed and presents it to his lover; a leather collar, well-worn from many uses. He let Dorian pick it out himself and had Dagna enchant it so that it unlatches if their safeword is said.

            “Is this alright?” he asks, moving to put the collar around the mage’s neck. Dorian smiles serenely and nods, leaning his head back to allow the Iron Bull to buckle it against his throat. He presses a kiss to his Adam’s apple and withdraws, pulling away from the mage. As much as Dorian bemoans the lack of contact, he gives him a moment to get into his headspace. After a long pause, Bull grunts and re-approaches, a flash of something dark in his eye.

            “Dorian.” A hand strokes over his cheek and his eyes flutter closed. “No, eyes open. I want you to look at me.”

            Dorian does as he is told, and “Yes, Sir,” tumbles from his lips before he can help it. The Iron Bull smiles.

            “So good for me. Almost makes me want to forget your punishment.” His voice is low and isn’t a threat, just a statement of fact—this is their arrangement. When Dorian misbehaves, he is punished; the only problem is that this time he doesn’t know what he’s done.

            “Sir?” he says meekly, looking up from under his thick eyelashes the way he knows Iron Bull likes.

            “What is it?”

            “What am I to be punished for?” The Bull retreats to the large bed and pats his thigh.

            “Hop up and I’ll tell you.” Dorian does as he is told; he wants to be good for Iron Bull, wants to make him happy, just like the Bull makes him happy. Once he’s settled in the larger man’s lap, he speaks.

            “I heard you talking to Sera today, my pretty little ‘Vint.” Dorian inhales sharply and buries his face in Bull’s shoulder, trying to conceal the blush spreading across his features. The qunari chuckles, though not rudely. “I see you remember. Something about not making promises I can’t keep.” He pulls back a little and presses his thumb into Dorian’s mouth, who immediately begins to suckle. “You just don’t know how to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, do you kadan?” Dorian makes a small noise and shakes his head.

            “I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

            “Don’t worry. If you’re good, I’ll give you a reward,” Bull soothes, and the smaller man gives a pleased him.

            “Yes, Sir. How do you want me?” He’s eager to please; one of these days Iron Bull should really come up with a punishment that doesn’t get him off.

            “Over my lap. Pants down.” The moment the command is uttered, Dorian is wriggling out of the offending garments, discarding his shirt in the process, cock already half hard against his thigh from anticipation. The Bull tugs him across his knees, one hand caressing the tender flesh of his rear and the other hooked loosely into his collar. The mage squirms under his touch, trying to grind against the Iron Bull’s thigh, who gives him a quick, teasing swat to the rear.

            “None of that. Rewards are earned, big guy.” Dorian pouts, but goes still, awaiting his punishment with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. “Here’s how this is going to work. You’ll get ten strikes for your little chat with Sera, and every time a sound comes out of that pretty mouth of yours, I’ll add another. Understood?” The Bull’s voice is low and rough, and Dorian opens his mouth to reply before thinking better of it and nodding instead. His lover smiles at the close save. “Good boy.” Without further ado, he delivers a forceful slap to Dorian’s ass. It nearly startles a yelp out of the human, who bites his lip to keep from making noise. The Bull grins. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

            Dorian makes it to the sixth smack before a muffled sob escapes his lips, a mess of pain and arousal forcing the noise out of him. The Iron Bull barely reacts. “Eleven,” he says, still in that same irresistible voice. The prospect urges a whimper from Dorian, and Bull makes a tutting noise. “Twelve.” Dorian’s cock is impossibly hard, and both can feel it trapped between the smaller man’s body and the larger man’s thigh. By the time he’s reached the 10th strike, Dorian’s ass feels raw, every nerve ending on fire as the Iron Bull rubs a hand over the tender flesh. His eyes are watering, silent tears spilling down his face.

            “God, Dorian,” Iron Bull’s voice is rough. “So good for me, taking your punishment so quietly.” Another spank, and Dorian jerks, eyes rolling back in his head. “Just one more, and then you get your reward.” The final swat is the harshest yet, but somehow he miraculously stifles the cry in his throat as Bull finishes his punishment.

            “Alright, it’s over now. You can make noise.” Dorian releases the hand over his mouth and lets out a sob, and the Bull pulls him upright in his lap, making the human wince at the pressure on his abused bottom. “Such a good boy.” He pulls Dorian in for a sweet kiss, using the collar to tug him close. Dorian lets out a little whimper and squirms in the Bull’s lap, trying to remind Bull of both of their arousals; with a purr-like rumble, he rolls Dorian onto the bed, pinning him against the mattress and kissing him breathless.

            After a moment he pulls back, wiping the tears from Dorian’s face with a gentle swipe of his thumb. “Everything alright, kadan?”

            Dorian gives a shaky nod, a determined, almost challenging smile shining through on his features. “Yes, Sir. Keep going.” Iron Bull laughs; the mage can be a demanding little thing when he wants to be. But his punishment is over, so Bull lets it slide.

            “Since you did so well,” the Iron Bull starts, and Dorian wriggles in anticipation. “I’m going to let you have my cock. You can come any time you want, but you can’t touch yourself, and we won’t stop until I’m done. Sound fair?” He drags a thumb across Dorian’s cheekbone, and the human nods eagerly. “Oh, and one more thing.”

            “Yes, Sir?”

            “I want to hear you.”

            The Iron Bull already has the lube at the ready, and he wastes no time in slicking his fingers and pressing one into Dorian’s ass, tight and hot after the spanking he endured. The mage keens, cock twitching as the Bull bites down on his collarbone, marking him to the world as property of the Iron Bull. “Please Sir, another,” he demands, undulating his hips in the way he knows the qunari likes. He obliges, slipping a second oiled digit in alongside the first and scissoring them; letting out a noise of contentment, Dorian begins to roll his hips against the intrusion, spreading his legs wider to allow the Bull easier access. A smile spreading across his face, the Iron Bull flicks his tongue over one of his lover’s pierced nipples, earning a hum of pleasure. Dorian feels like he’s floating, waves of sensation washing over him with each careful touch. Cautiously, he reaches up to stroke Iron Bull’s ears, just where they meet the base of his horns. He scratches gently, and gets a twitch in response, the qunari’s eye fluttering shut.

            “Mm, Dorian, fuck. You know me too well, kadan.” Without warning, he presses a third finger into the human, just on the edge of too soon, the stretch barely this side of too much. Dorian thrashes, his head tossing, and lets out a drawn out moan, his erection jerking against his stomach.

            “Shit, dominus,” he babbles, hardly noticing his slip into old Tevene. “I can’t, fuck, please.” He’s no longer coherent as the Bull presses his fingers up against the spot in Dorian that makes him see stars.

            A near-constant stream of expletives leaves Dorian’s mouth as he arches up off the bed, whole body rocking with each thrust of Bull’s fingers. Soon the swearing becomes a mantra of “pleasepleasepleaseplease,” until Dorian’s body tenses and he comes, seed dirtying his stomach as his untouched cock twitches violently. His whole body jerks with the force of his orgasm but the Iron Bull doesn’t pause for a moment, milking every last drop of pleasure from his lover. Even after the aftershocks have subsided, his fingers keep a steady pace, drawing a whimper from Dorian as his oversensitive nerves are stimulated.

            “Nnh, Sir, no more,” he gasps, hands scrabbling for purchase at the base of the Iron Bull’s horns.

            The Bull tuts. “I told you before we started, I decide when we stop.” His expression gentles. “But if you want a break, you’ve earned it.” Dorian nods, and the fingers slide out of him, leaving him clenching around air. Iron Bull reaches into a nearby drawer and pulls out a carefully carved wooden plug, and it’s inside Dorian almost before he notices it. “Gotta keep you stretched,” the Bull says, looking smug as his lover tries to adjust to the new intrusion. “Turn onto your front, hands over your head.”

            Dorian follows suit, letting out a contented sigh as Iron Bull’s hands smooth over the collar around his neck before sliding down to his lower back. He hears the sound of a cork being popped, and the smell of lavender fills the room, a sweet contrast to the faint smell of metal and earth that hangs around the qunari’s room and the pungent scent of arousal that both men are giving off. He twitches with surprise as a drizzle of slightly warm oil drips onto his back, but relaxes when the Bull begins to rub it into his skin, slowly massaging the knots out of Dorian’s back and shoulders, carefully avoiding the leather collar lest he stain it.

            With Bull practically draped over him, the human can feel the press of his erection against the back of his thigh, how it jerks with each moan that slips from Dorian’s lips. It’s easy for him to lose himself to the sensations of Iron Bull’s calloused hands pressing along his body, the sweet scent of the oil, and the well-fucked feeling that pervades his body, even as he begins to stiffen against the sheets once more.

            When the warrior’s hands make their way to Dorian’s rear, carefully massaging the tender flesh that’s just beginning to bruise, the mage begins to moan in earnest, letting out soft, wrecked cries as he begins to rut against the bed. To his surprise, the Iron Bull lets him, his deft and strong fingers continuing their journey down his thighs. Dorian spreads his legs, presenting himself to his lover, and the plug shifts inside of him, making him cry out. The Bull chuckles, voice full of affection, and grasps the base of the toy.

            “Ready to move on, little one?” he murmurs, and Dorian barely manages to stammer out an affirmative, tongue leaden in his mouth as pleasure short-circuits his brain.

            Thanks to Bull’s fingers and the plug, Dorian is well-stretched, despite their significant size difference. The Bull works the plug out slowly, keeping Dorian writhing and clutching at the sheets as he slicks his own erection and positions it at his lover’s entrance. The head slides in with a minute pop, and Dorian’s eyes go wide before they roll back in his head, mouth falling open in pleasure. The stretch is divine, the burn simply a highlight to the intense pleasure that floods his body as the Iron Bull sinks deeper, his chest pressed against Dorian’s back.

            “Fuck, Dorian,” he grunts, rocking his hips once, twice. “You have no idea how good you feel, you’re so fucking tight, shit—” He cuts himself off with a low groan. Dorian’s hands clutch at the sheets as his lover thrusts in earnest, the movement causing his newly stiff erection to grind against the bed.

            “Please, Sir,” he groans, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the sheets. The Bull notices and removes a hand from Dorian’s hip, grabbing his wrists and holding them together above the smaller man’s head.

            “Please what?” Iron Bull smirks, punctuating the question with another forceful thrust. Dorian keens as his girth forces his wide open, rubbing up against every sensitive spot inside him. Each time he opens his mouth to speak the qunari moves, and all he can manage is a breathless groan. Finally, Dorian manages to grit out a single word.

            “More!” His voice breaks on the word and the Bull growls, hands digging tighter into the human’s hip and wrists.

            “Can do.”

            The Iron Bull sets a quick pace, rough enough that Dorian rocks forward with each powerful thrust. It’s perfect, the mage thinks, as the initial sting subsides and pleasure replaces it. As his sensitive cock grinds against the smooth fabric of the blankets, Dorian cries out, pushing his hips back to meet the Bull’s rhythm. Growling with satisfaction, the larger man leans down, pressing his large grey body over the human, weighing him down and keeping him present.

            “That’s what I like to hear,” he mutters, and Dorian can hear the smile in his voice. He purrs and basks in the praise like a cat in the sun, even as the Bull pounds into him. “Keep it up, kadan, and I’m not going to last much longer.” Dorian groans at that; there’s something immensely gratifying about making the Iron Bull lose his calm, controlled front, rendering him just as vulnerable as Dorian, regardless of who’s tied up

            Dorian jolts as the Bull bites down hard on his shoulder, startling a shout from his lips. “Mine,” the qunari growls, and a jolt of pure arousal runs through the mage, more powerful than any spell.

            “Yours,” he breathes, and the hand on his hip tightens, making him keen. “Yours,” he repeats, louder, and is rewarded with another bite, this time to the back of his neck, just above the collar in a place no scarf or shirt will hide. He’s so close now, on the edge again even though he’s already spent once, and he knows Bull is as well. With a final possessive grunt, the qunari thrusts in and stays, and Dorian can feel his hot seed coating his insides, filling him up and making him clench, milking Bull of his spend.

            After several long moments, the Iron Bull pulls out, and Dorian shudders as liquid runs down his inner thighs. He wants to kiss his lover, but his hands are still held together; he wriggles, and Bull gets the point, releasing his wrists and flipping the smaller man over with ease.

            “So good for me, Dorian,” he says, and takes Dorian’s cock in hand, stroking gently. The human bucks his hips up, eyes squeezing shut as he feels his orgasm fast approaching. “My pretty little mage, moaning and begging just for me.” He presses a sweet kiss to Dorian’s lips and the Tevinter is coming, hips jerking wildly as the Bull strokes him through his second mind-blowing orgasm.

            As the aftershocks begin to wind down, Bull releases Dorian and draws away; the human whines, but he’s back in an instant, with a damp cloth that he uses to wipe Dorian down. He lays back and lets his lover pamper him, shivering as the rag passes over his sensitive entrance.

            “How you doing?” the Iron Bull rumbles, and Dorian makes a weak noise of contentment. With the cleaning over with, the qunari moves up the bed to recline next to his lover. “Was that alright?” His voice is soft and genuinely caring and Dorian reaches his arms out, making grabby hands towards the larger man.

“It was excellent, you great lug. Now come here and kiss me.” His voice is hoarse but unmistakably pleased, and the Iron Bull obliges, wrapping thick arms around Dorian’s lithe form. He makes to take the collar off, but Dorian stops him. “Leave it on. Just a while longer.”

The Iron Bull smiles. “Of course, kadan.”

Within minutes, Dorian is snoring softly, head pillowed against his lover’s broad chest; the Bull strokes the human’s hair and presses a kiss to his hair, content for a moment to just be.

**Author's Note:**

> I love my big buff trans lady Adaar. Sera loves her too ;)


End file.
